


In many a hungry wish (told to the skies only)

by LiveOakWithMoss



Series: You Drove Me Wild [10]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Cousin Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 19:35:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1869798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveOakWithMoss/pseuds/LiveOakWithMoss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fire, ice, and exile. That last night in Tirion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In many a hungry wish (told to the skies only)

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [В желаниях, высказанных только небесам](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8095117) by [rio_abajo_rio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rio_abajo_rio/pseuds/rio_abajo_rio)



Findekáno bent over his desk, forcing himself to concentrate on the papers before him. But try as he might, the same images kept swimming before his eyes. Fëanaro in his high helm, pressing the tip of his sword to his brother’s breast; the grief and betrayal Findekáno saw in his father’s eyes that night; seeing him for the first time, clearly, as a younger son, aching for his brother to love him. And then, tonight, the pronouncement of exile, Nolofinwë’s attempt at reconciliation, and Fëanaro’s cold, unbending silence. And most of all, those seven tall figures at his side, as proud and unyielding as their father. The tallest of them had shone like torchlight, and Findekáno swore as his quill slipped, spattering ink across his reports. Damn Maitimo, distracting him even now!

“You should blot that,” came a quiet voice from behind him, and Findekáno whirled around. 

Maitimo was standing by the window, the night wind catching his hair. 

“How – ” Findekáno began. It was like a ghost had appeared in his room. 

Maitimo gestured to the open window. “Just like you always did.” He smiled slightly. “It’s harder than you made it look.” 

“There was a trellis to your window,” said Findekáno, blankly, and then remembered his rage. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be preparing for your little trip? Your grand family vacation?” 

Maitimo raised his eyebrows. “That was quite sarcastic of you, Findekáno, I’m impressed.” 

“Shut up.” Findekáno clenched his fists. “You come here, making _jokes_ after what your father did to mine – ” 

“Your father was unharmed, was he not?” 

“That’s not the point!” Findekáno slammed his fist down on the desk. The inkwell jumped and overturned, thoroughly ruining the paperwork. 

“Careful,” said Maitimo, quietly. 

“So you’re going with him, are you?” 

“Of course. There was never a question of that, was there?” Maitimo’s eyes held a challenge. “I've told you before… I’ve never deceived you about where my loyalties lie.” 

“Loyalties – Elbereth, Maitimo. I’d like nothing better than to hit you right now.” 

Maitimo smiled crookedly. “ _Nothing_ better?” 

Findekáno swore and kicked his chair aside. He strode across the room and seized Maitimo by the shoulders, pushing him back against the wall. “Damn you, you son of a bitch, I swear – ” He broke off and kissed Maitimo fiercely. Maitimo returned the kiss with heat, wrapping his arms around Findekáno’s waist, nearly pulling him off his feet. 

“You drive me mad, you know that?” Findekáno whispered, breaking their kiss. 

Maitimo laughed low and dangerous in his ear, whirling to pin Findekáno’s back against the wall in turn. He slid his hands down beneath Findekáno’s hips and lifted him easily, and Findekáno gave a helpless groan and wrapped his legs around Maitimo’s waist.

“I hate you, Maitimo,” he said, and moaned as Maitimo jerked the laces of his breeches open. “I hate you, I hate you…” 

“I love you,” Maitimo whispered, taking the tip of Findekáno’s ear lightly between his teeth, and Findekáno knew he was doomed, utterly. 

- 

Findekáno’s skin was shining with sweat. He lay bare against the sheets and closed his eyes. They’d dragged the curtains closed against any prying eyes, and to muffle any sounds, and the room was stifling with the added heat of their bodies and recent exertions. Findekáno’s hair was damp, his golden-brown skin flushed and marked with light bruises. Maitimo nuzzled into his throat, refusing to let him drowse off. 

Findekáno raised a hand to brush against Maitimo’s cheek, then let it drop back with a groan. “It’s too hot. Eru, what I wouldn’t give for a glacier right now.”

Maitimo propped himself on one elbow beside him, trailing kisses over his chest, the fall of his hair sweeping across Findekáno’s skin. “If I could,” he murmured, “I would bring you a thousand glaciers. I would bring the snow for you, and run ice across your body, and lick up the wetness it left.” He dragged his tongue across the salt heat of Findekáno’s skin and Findekáno made a noise, deep in his throat. 

“Maitimo…” 

“I would trail ice between your legs,” Maitimo whispered, “and lick the drops from your thighs. And then I would take you in my mouth and make you hot all over again.” He shifted downwards, and knelt between Findekáno’s legs, lowering his mouth to Findekáno’s already half-hard cock. 

Findekáno buried his hands in Maitimo’s hair and arched his head back against the pillows. “You would do all that, would you?” he managed. 

“I would bring you ice to keep you from burning,” murmured Maitimo, “and then I would keep you warm from within.” His tongue trailed lower, and Findekáno cried out, gasping. Soon, gentle fingers were probing within him as Maitimo pressed kisses to his belly. “Open up for me, beloved,” he said, and Findekáno spread his legs and whispered, “Please,” and Maitimo filled him. 

They rocked together, hot skin and tight flesh, and the room was still, airless, silent but for the sounds of their lovemaking. And when tears streamed, unbidden, from Findekáno’s eyes, Maitimo kissed them away. 

“Don’t go,” Findekáno whispered, when Maitimo shuddered, spilling into him, and Maitimo held him tightly and said nothing, but did not pull free, even as he softened between Findekáno’s thighs.

Findekáno fell asleep like that, sweat and tears drying on his face, Maitimo still within him, his arms wound tightly around his cousin. 

Heat without, and heat within, but that night, Findekáno dreamed of ice. 

When he woke, Maitimo was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> 0\. Continued in [Songs of the New World.](http://archiveofourown.org/series/121242)


End file.
